Patterns of Warmth
by Irene Claire
Summary: Missing scenes or Coda to 'Oni kalalea ke ku a ka la'au loa', S8 Ep11 (because Charlie's reaction about his Uncle Steve means something). It means even more to Danny. I guess this might be considered pre-slash. Alternate ending to Steve showing up at the house. Add chapter 2 w Steve's POV. Angst/hurt/comfort.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** Missing (sort of) scene to 'Oni kalalea ke ku a ka la'au loa', S8 Ep11 (because Charlie's reaction about his Uncle Steve means something). It means even more to Danny. I guess this might be considered pre-slash (yeah, the saber toothed bunny had that mind-set), at least on Danny's part with where some of his thoughts seem to wind up. Though I guess, those thoughts could be considered smarmy, drug-induced thoughts too.

Written in one sitting - not beta'd - hopefully it makes sense.

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny stayed just a bit longer after Charlie fell asleep. He stayed there stretched out long beside his son, his fingers gently toying through the boy's hair while considering what Charlie not only had said, but what he'd done during the contrived Christmas tale. A story that Danny had intentionally altered, muddied and retold with a great many embellishments beyond the truth of the actual case his partner and team had just worked.

Danny hadn't thought anything of what he'd said at the time, nor of what he was building up to. It had all been for fun and to entertain the active mind of a six-year old. Even if it might be founded in some truth, he'd changed it up quite a lot. And it was a _story_ after all. Charlie knew that it was mostly make believe and that his father was making things up as he went along, even making things up about his Uncle Steve ... but Danny stopped there again, unable to get further beyond thoughts of his partner.

Danny paused as he rehashed the truth behind the case and how it had all actually gone down. As Junior had related to him afterwards, things had been dicey for a while. Their perp had been waiting for Steve on that rooftop and Steve nearly had gotten his fool head blown off. _Again_. Despite that though and in true McGarrett form, Steve had prevailed.

 _Of course he had._ Danny remembered listening and then moving on because what his partner had done or might have done hardly alarmed him by that point. _Or did it?_ Danny hadn't been there this time; no one really had. No one Danny really trusted anyway. Suddenly lost right there as his stomach rolled uncomfortably, Danny's fingers stilled their movement within the fine strands of Charlie's blond hair.

Charlie had literally reacted in fear, hiding deep under his blankets when Danny had gotten to that part in the story. _Why_? Because even though kids liked shoot -em up stories - and Charlie was no exception to the rule - his _Uncle Steve_ was the good guy in this particular tale and he was in danger. Charlie was afraid _because_ ... the bad Santa knew that Steve was coming and was waiting for him.

 _Because_ right then, at that point in this partially made up _story_ , Charlie sensed something of the truth. He'd sensed something of the real truth and had been scared that the bad guy was really going to hurt his Uncle Steve. If anything, Danny's lame explanation that Uncle Steve had literally talked the bad Santa into a bored sleep had made matters worse. Charlie's flat out ' _No'_ to that excuse and his refusal to come out from under his blankets proved that easily enough.

Danny shook his head as he mentally rehashed and replayed Junior's words. The kid had been cocky, impressed - in awe of his new boss. Danny was lying to himself though about having moved on or not being alarmed by what he'd learned. Despite knowing the obvious outcome, he had been scared, too. Danny glanced down and studied the innocent face so lax and trusting in sleep. Charlie had been scared that the bad Santa might have hurt Steve or done even worse. His child's reaction to hide under the covers had been nothing but pure innocent, honesty.

And if he were to allow himself a similar level of truthfulness, Danny had felt a momentary flare of similar fear during that conversation with Junior. His partner easily could have gotten his damn-fool head blown off without proper back-up.

He automatically inhaled deeply then, intending to blow out a heavy sigh - a way to force himself to relax because he was getting worked up - but Danny wheezed to a pained halt as his healing lung instantly objected. Danny clutched at his chest, trying to fight back an urge to cough. Tears sprang to his eyes as he fought to control his breathing while struggling to get out of Charlie's bed as quietly as possible without waking his son.

Danny made the doorway blinded by tears, his fist to his mouth as the first garbled cough broke free. He awkwardly thumbed the light switch off, hunched over in agony as his chest seized. He coughed again, once then twice helplessly, one hand braced against the wall now as he aimed himself for the kitchen.

" _Whoa, whoa, whoa! Danny ... easy._ " Danny startled at the soft sound of Steve's voice and he stumbled over his own two feet, literally falling into the wall which was his partner's chest. His forehead rested against that warmth for just a second as Steve wrapped his hands around Danny's biceps, effectively holding him up when his knees buckled. Unable to catch his breath, Danny gagged and moaned against the tightness in his chest, his vision dimming now from lack of oxygen as his throat closed up.

"Easy ... come on buddy, slow breaths ... nice and slow," Steve whispered desperately. "Shit, slow it down ... what happened? You okay? Where's your meds?" His tone was full of alarm as he tucked Danny to his side next, virtually carting him bodily now towards the living room sofa.

He was nauseous, dizzy and seeing a blanket of fake sparkling stars against a blackish haze as Steve sat him down, the two sitting close. Danny was still tucked tightly against Steve's side as his back was gently rubbed and soft words of advice were frantically whispered into his ear. As the coughing slowly subsided, Danny felt himself carefully tipped over, his feet swung up to where Steve had just been sitting. Weakened and helpless to argue, Danny closed his eyes against the dizzying blur as pillows were hastily propped under his neck and head, and a light blanket was draped over his legs. He panted, shallow careful breaths, upset by the wet whine in his lungs and the way his breathing was too slow to cooperate. But each tiny inhale and subsequent exhale were sending twinges of pain though his chest wall over and over again.

"Here, small sips," Steve coached softly as he held a glass of water to Danny's mouth. He waited patiently as Danny obliged his orders, hardly wetting his lips each time until he could catch his breath better.

"Meds? Can you take 'em yet? Pain meds, Danno?" Steve gently rubbed a circle on Danny's chest just off-center of the healing bullet wound, his hand warm and the sensation soothing in its repetition.

Eyes closed, Danny chuffed a small affirmative about the meds, hoping Steve would understand without actual words. Hoping more that Steve would stay right where he was; that he'd continue rubbing those same idle circles over his chest for just a bit longer. But Danny sensed the stalwart presence leave his side for the kitchen on a search for the pain medication. A moment later, a small pill was shoved into the palm of his hand and Steve was supporting his head, back with more water and whispering calming words.

"T-thanks," Danny squeezed out after he'd taken the pain medication. He squinted upwards, his vision still bleary from pain-prompted, spasmodic tears and managed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It didn't work though. Steve was scared to death for him. In fact, Steve was on his knees right next to where Danny was now lying on the sofa, his expression full of worry and fear.

"Y'sure?" Steve asked quietly, unconvinced when Danny could only nod back. He scrubbed a hand over his face and into the sorry excuse of a buzz-cut he'd given to himself. Steve's eyes were glassy, worried. Danny had rattled Steve as good as he'd just rattled himself and frankly, Danny wasn't really going to be able to do or say anything which would make either one of them feel better for quite some time.

Danny blinked his eyes, fighting an urge to sink into sleep from being wrung out from the spasm because something very basic had just dawned on him. Though he could guess the reason, Danny didn't really know why Steve was in his house in the first place.

"W-w-why?" He started to ask and then quickly stopped when his voice cracked in warning. He gave out with a light cough and winced, the urge waning as soon as it had come on when he felt Steve's hand splay gently over his chest again. He stilled and then quieted more as Steve began to run his fingers in those small circles again. The gentle motion calmed Danny almost immediately and he sighed carefully, able to keep his breathing light and shallow, his eyes closing once more.

"Better?" Steve whispered as he picked up on Danny's content hum of approval.

 _'Why?'_ Danny mouthed the question now, tired and weak, but needing to know. Needing to hear it from Steve's own mouth. Maybe just needing to hear Steve's voice because he was as scared as Charlie had been.

"Try to rest, Danno," Steve said quietly. "Adam ... he called me before." He trailed his fingers soothingly back and forth across Danny's chest. Near the bullet wound but never too close. Round and round, then back and forth. A pattern of warmth which was calming, careful ... doting. Danny sighed unconsciously, sleep beckoning even more as Steve continued the repetitive motion.

"S-Steve," Danny's voice was scarcely audible. His lung pinged in warning and Steve shushed him as he likely read the distress which had to have flashed across his face. He had to stop talking before trying to get out another syllable. And what he wanted to say didn't really matter. Even if he could have safely strung more than two words together, Danny didn't know how to tell his partner more. He didn't know how to tell him what he was thinking; hell, Danny wasn't entirely sure what he was thinking either. Maybe it was the trauma of a near-death experience or the affects of the drugs he was still on. Did it matter? All Danny could do right then - all he wanted to do - was rock his head to meet Steve's other hand when it palmed some of his sweat-dampened hair to the side.

"I spoke to Adam ... and he said you weren't off your feet enough. With Charlie here, you couldn't rest or wouldn't rest ...," Steve explained in a nearly voiceless murmur. "So, I came by to help ... to make sure you were all right. And now? Now, I'm glad that I did ... so, sleep, buddy. I'm here if you or Charlie need anything. Okay?"

Danny nodded tiredly. He could hardly deny he needed the help. He wouldn't argue Steve's unexpected appearance or offer to stay that night because he selfishly needed Steve to be there. He _wanted_ him to be there. Hell, the ' _Uncle Steve'_ stocking hanging from his small mantle wasn't an accidental add just for his kids' sakes. It was there because Danny wanted it to be there, too.

He gave in to sleep with Steve's hand still on his chest keeping him anchored. Keeping them all safe.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _Uh yeah, so about that one shot? Sooooooo ... ummm ... yeah. I lied? The muse wanted Steve's POV and then quite literally wrote 90% of it in my head whilst driving back. It could not resist Steve in a Santa Suit. Regardless, I think that Jlopie has invested in a whole new bulk shipment of cattle prods._

 _And ... also? Still kinda pre-slashy._

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

It was all too much. Steve sat down on the floor, cross-legged, facing Danny who was now sound asleep on the sofa. Steve studied his friend from stem to stern, taking in the way Danny's hand flopped over at the wrist, his fingers gently tented open over the healing bullet wound. Steve cringed because for a moment those horrific memories of Danny nearly dying right in front of him flashed through his mind in vivid, blood-red color. He couldn't go there; he wouldn't.

Nevertheless, Steve studied him. He catalogued everything from the dry creases around Danny's eyes, to the subtle tension of his jaw even in sleep. The way his breathing still seemed far too shallow, even uncomfortable. It was all too much because it was all too fresh. After Adam called, Steve realized that he never should have left Danny alone after being discharged from the hospital. What had he been thinking? Guiltily, Steve reached out as if to touch Danny's arm or his cheek and then thought the better of it. Danny was alive. He was right there in front of him. Safe and whole.

Steve sighed deeply as he hung his head, eyes closing with his own rush of fatigue, his chin practically touching his chest. He'd almost lost his entire team within the same week. He'd almost lost Danny though, twice. There wouldn't be a third time. Ever.

Head still bowed, eyes still tightly shut, Steve did reach out then. Blindly finding the warmth of Danny's arm behind the darkness of his lids. He wondered how Danny had managed to rally though all of it to wind up right where he was at that very moment: with Charlie, ready to celebrate Christmas, then the New Year, in a fully decorated home. The homey smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies wafting lazily in the air.

"Son of a gun, you _baked_ , too?" Steve hissed softly under his breath when he realized he could really smell the enticing scent lingering throughout the house. "Cookies, Danno? Seriously?"

He blinked his eyes open, his thumb running a gentle circle on his partner's forearm. He paused when Danny shifted and murmured something in his sleep. Steve automatically shushed him and then waited for Danny to settle again, but he was completely astonished as he really looked around and took in the entire room. A fully decorated Christmas tree, stockings hung ... all the lights ... even outside? A glass of milk and home-baked cookies plated by the side table just waiting for Santa's arrival. Danny had not only thought of everything, he'd done everything. Steve shook his head, amazed and not just a small bit guilty.

Adam had been right to call him, but he'd called a bit too late in Steve's opinion. But maybe it was Steve's own fault because he should have known better. He didn't need anyone to tell him what his partner would be up to this time of year. Come hell or high water, and damn if they didn't have both such labeled disasters to deal with that very same week, Danny would have found a way.

So if Steve had had his head out of his proverbial ass, he'd been well ahead of the curve and not needed a phone call from a well-meaning friend that Danny was doing too much. _Baking. Decorating. Making Christmas just right for his kids._ Instead, Steve had been utterly distracted and he'd practically gone rogue on Danny's case. Chasing down a vacuum of nothingness after finding that photo of Danny with its terrifying message.

 _ **He deserved to die**._

Steve's insides twisted tightly again and his breath caught in his throat. No. No, definitely not Danny Williams; he didn't deserve to die. Not this man.

"I'm going to figure this out," Steve promised softly as he watched Danny sleep. But his insides were knotted as if a black fist had taken up a permanent residence. Since seeing that photo with its dire note, Steve had been obsessed with investigating this weird, obscure monster who'd nearly ruined their lives. He needed to find out everything because there was no way to really know yet if the mysterious man - _this monster -_ had been working alone.

Misty-eyed and distracted by his emotions, Steve gazed at the stockings hanging on the mantle and then marveled again at the soft texture of the holiday lights. The home was quiet, peaceful and ... perfectly beautiful. Danny had barely made it home from the hospital and yet, he'd managed ... _Christmas_. For Charlie. For Grace. Even for the both of them based on the presence of Steve's own stocking, nearly front and center.

"How the heck did you do all this?" Steve muttered. He knew how though. He even knew when because the window of time was excruciatingly narrow and yet, Danny had pulled it all off. The tired lines around Danny's eyes partly explained the story. The way Steve was lucky enough to time his arrival to find Danny in the throes of a painful coughing spasm explained the remainder. He'd obviously been on his feet too much, not resting as prescribed by his doctors. Driven to make Christmas the perfect holiday which Danny demanded it be from year to year for his family.

Steve didn't doubt that a pile of toys and colorfully wrapped packages were hidden somewhere in a closet or spare room. Things which needed to be placed under the tree well before Charlie woke the next morning. And Steve knew without needing to guess how early that might be for an excited little boy. And quite frankly, though he would do his damndest, this little boy's father wouldn't really be up to it.

The idea came almost from out of nowhere a second later and Steve got to his feet, eyes wide. He looked over at the side table again: a glass of milk and home-baked cookies plated ... right there ... almost too benignly waiting for Santa's arrival.

 _Santa_. Of course.

Steve looked down as Danny slept on, his expression more than fond. It made perfect sense and Steve was sure that he'd find it in the house ... somewhere. Danny was a romantic at heart and a lover of tradition. Hell, Danny might have it right at his fingertips to use that very next morning. Steve's smile grew. He had a plan.

 **H5O* H5O**

Steve heard the first stirrings just shy of three o'clock in the morning and smiled. He'd guessed right that Christmas Eve would be far too tempting for a little boy to sleep a full night without at least one peek outside his bedroom. Steve sat up straighter at the kitchen table, the soft yellow light from the candle just barely illuminating his bearded profile. He'd experimented with how to sit, where to sit, and what lighting to use more than a few times in anticipation of Charlie's waking.

He sensed their arrival just a few moments later and grinned under the thick, faux beard. With a diligent focus, he ignored the two figures standing stock-still in the doorway, but he knew they were hand in hand and that the smaller of the two had suddenly opted to hide behind the taller. With utmost care, he took a small, studious bite of a cookie whilst humming softly under his breath. The black-gloved fingers of his free hand curved almost elegantly around the glass of milk.

" _Danno ... it's him_." Steve heard the awe in Charlie's whisper and desperately wanted to look their way, almost ruining the tableau by laughing out right when he heard his partner's rather stunned and very ineloquent ' _uh huh'_ in response. Likely still half-asleep, brain buzzing from pain meds, he was sure that Danny had no idea what was going on and was as likely as snookered as Charlie.

 _"Danno ... what do we do?"_ The question nearly unraveled Steve's plans in the desperation of its tone. To spare them both, and to end the sweet sham before it lost its magic, Steve turned in the chair, calmly and slowly. Charlie's gasp was audible as was Danny's startled grunt as his son ducked behind his legs, his fingers buried in the waistline of his father's sleep pants.

Ever so slowly, Steve turned. His gaze slipped gently over Danny's face and he smiled at the expression he found there, before settling purposefully on Charlie's eyes.

" _Shhh_ ," Steve murmured while he raised his gloved fingers to his lips. It was a simple gesture demanding that Charlie stay quiet or keep this special visit a complete secret. Either way, it didn't matter because when Steve nudged the large red bag he'd found near the Santa costume which was now partly stuffed full with the gifts Danny had already wrapped, he got the reaction he wanted. Compounding the message with that nudge while pointing almost imperiously over the boy's head, back towards Charlie's bedroom. Well, that was all it took.

Steve caught one final glimpse of blue eyes as large as saucer plates before Charlie bolted. In a flash, the boy was gone, bare feet pounding down the hallway back to his bedroom on the heels of a startled, excited yelp. He breathed out a soft laugh when he heard the bedroom door snick closed and got up from the chair because Danny had never budged from the doorway. Smiling broadly, Steve removed the pillow out from under the front of the red coat, then shrugged as he pulled the long white beard down so it hung just below his chin.

"I'd say that went well, but this damn thing itches, Danno," Steve whispered quietly as he walked over to stand in front of his still rather stunned partner. "And by the way, why you gotta hold out on me with these cookies? Why wouldn't you tell me about these? These are shockingly good."

"Dunno." Danny shook his head, left to right. His eyes were shining in the darkness, the half-light from the candles was just enough for them to see each other. However, Steve couldn't quite read the expression which was glued to Danny's face. "I don't know why that's shocking," Danny finally breathed out next, completely unable to take his eyes from Steve's. "I'm a fantastic baker."

"Yeah, yeah I guess you are at that," Steve murmured. He gestured aimlessly to the Santa suit he was wearing, wondering if he'd just monumentally screwed up since Danny had yet to say more. Danny just kept staring at him. The costume fell a bit short in the leg and Steve grinned apologetically since his socks peeked through. Charlie hadn't noticed because his lower body had been hidden by the table and dim lighting.

"So about all this? I know it's not perfect; it doesn't really fit me. But I hope you don't mind ... I thought ... for Charlie ... you know ... he seemed happy. Surprised." His voice trailed off then. Danny's mouth was opening and closing a bit like a gaffed fish. "I screwed up didn't I?" Steve whispered worriedly. "I mean, I didn't want to overstep things ... but, I thought ...Geez, Danno, I'm sorry. Did I mess up?"

"No, no you didn't mess up at all. It's just that you looked very ... convincing. Very. Actually," Danny murmured. His eyes glistened dark blue and the gruffness of his tone meant that he was near tears. He reached out to take Steve's hand, chuffing a bewildered noise in his throat when he found out that Santa's black gloved fingers were really part of Steve's own tac-issued items. "It was perfect ... _you're_ perfect and so, yeah ..." He paused again and shook his head, squeezing Steve's hand. "You're ... you ... I love you, you know."

"Yeah?" Steve grinned happily. "I love you, too ... and Charlie. And well, I know you're not up-to-speed and I wanted to do something special ..."

"You know, you always did look good in uniform," Danny interrupted quietly, surprising Steve with the comment. "I think ... I think we might just have started a new family tradition."

"Yeah? This is more costume than uniform Danno, plus it's only good for once a year," Steve remarked, his smile now knowing no bounds as Danny pulled him into a hug. Content and more than pleased with the outcome, he traced a warm pattern lightly over Danny's thin t-shirt with his fingertips. "But I'm all in for new traditions."

"Good, because those are just _details_ ... and we can make another new tradition. Starting this Christmas ... starting now," Danny whispered into his chest, his voice quiet and virtually muffled by their hug as his arms wended comfortably around Steve's back. "You know, Charlie is never forget this Christmas Eve. He won't forget ... and neither will I."

 _ **~ End. ~**_


End file.
